


Repeat Contact

by theonlymoo



Category: Pacific Rim (2013), Transformers: Prime
Genre: Crack, Crack Crossover, Crack Treated Seriously, Drift Compatibility, Fake Science, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, POV Newton Geiszler, Porn With Plot, Serious Science, Sexual Experimentation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:44:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3378647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonlymoo/pseuds/theonlymoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newton Geiszler figured, after the Kaiju attacks ended in 2025, that it was all downhill from there.  There's no way he would ever work with something as unique, challenging, or interesting as them ever again.  He was wrong.  At the invitation of Optimus Prime, he has to figure out how Cybertronians reproduce, and diagnose their sexual dysfunction.  In Newton's world, that means he has to figure out a way to have sex with the Autobot leader.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Baggage Check

Newton Geiszler sat outside the Reno airport, bored and tired - not a new experience for him, but not a fun one either. He’d been called out by suits, and the experience was fairly typical-- “Dr. Geiszler can you come on urgent notice to look at this thing but we can’t tell you what it is?” This was an awesome part of his life a few years ago, but now…now he was just weary.

He was always hopeful that he’d be called in to work on some really cool stuff, but for every time he got called in to train dolphins for the CIA* or mount lasers on attack sharks he had twenty instances of just letting some physicist philistine improve a mathematical model of lymph fluid movements in fighter pilots. And it wasn’t worth it to get excited any more. He already did the coolest thing he’d ever do in his life, and figured it was all downhill from there.

Besides, the military didn’t even call him in for much now. He’d sworn off any applications which could be weaponized.

The Kaiju changed him. On the one hand, he was the closest thing his field of study had ever had to a legitimate rock star. He was given honors and accolades from people and organizations all around the world for the scientific breakthrough which allowed the end of a war. Life had been good for the past few years, despite his higher threshold for excitement.

On the other hand, despite not being involved in any conflicts, he had to overcome PTSD the first two years after the event. His unprecedented neural drifts had led him to a fondness for the Kaiju, and his interactions with Hannibal Chau had left him without much fondness for humans. He had prevented a probable human extinction, but contributed to an alien genocide, the loss of the most fascinating life forms he’d ever see.

At night, if he wasn’t kept awake by the mass slaughter on his conscience, he dreamed of the chance to interact with _that_ again. Before the Kaiju, humans thought the idea of life on Mars was fantastic, but now any encounter with extraterrestrial life was thought of with the malice of prior experience. “Newton,” they'd say. “We lost tens of millions of lives and crippled the world's economy to defend against alien attacks. You want us to invite more of them onto our doorstep so you can cut them open and play cranial pattycake with them blah blah blah I hate science and anything cool?”

Newton was unaware that he had spoken that part aloud, and doubly unaware of the glances of people passing by his slumped, casually reclining figure, or the increased berth they gave him as they walked.

Few recognized him now. He was mostly alright with this, since it meant he wasn’t constantly asked for autographs and being remembered for his role in a genocide. If he missed one thing, it was the fangirls. He was pretty certain that Raleigh must have more swooning fangirls than anyone in history, whereas his fan mail was mostly, well, male. He wasn’t opposed to the idea, nor had he been opposed to it the past 20-something times it had come up, but somehow he thought his mother would disapprove.

He just… he just wanted an experience with extraterrestrial biology again. Chau had sold most of what was left of the Kaiju’s bodies to people looking for great “male potency of testicle,” better memory, or a cure for their lumbago... He didn't care, not a bit, about the incredible wealth of knowledge that could have been gleaned from the collected parts. He only cared about incredible wealth. And his shoes.

And now Newton was sitting in a filthy airport in the middle of the desert, taking some stupid flight on some stupid airline that had lost his goddamn luggage... And for what? Where was this Agent Fowler?

“Dr. Geiszler?”

Newton continued his mental frothing. William Fowler stood over him, holding a briefcase. Why'd he get called out here anyway, no Kaiju had come this far inland, there were no portals, and the bright flashes of light that pushed him out of his sleep as well as the memories of his mental drift with the Kaiju reminded him every night of the genocide he had seen. Of the genocide he had helped instrument.

“Dr. Geiszler!” Newton looked up.

“Please, call me Neeeeewt...” _God damn_ , Newton thought as his speech trailed off. _That man has the squarest jaw I've ever seen!_

“Newt, then.” Fowler looked nonplussed. “I'm Agent William Fowler, the man who called you out here. Please come with us.” Fowler gestured to a custom Camaro in fancy yellow with black racing stripes – _not_ typical government issue. Newton had gotten used to Crown Victorias and boring black SUVs. Newton got into the passenger seat and waited for Fowler to finish loading into the car. His train of thought had stifled his usual loquaciousness, and when the door was closed he resumed his standard operating procedure of talking everyone’s ear off.

“Alright, so what's the deal? I mean, you call me out to Nevada and tell me you've got something of incredible importance, but it can't be about the Kaiju because they won't come back, and you already know I won't do anything that can be weaponized. I don't know why you'd want me here if not for one of those two reasons.”

Fowler, once again, was unperturbed. “Newt, we want you on board with a program involving a state secret which predates the Kaiju attacks.” Fowler opened his briefcase and produced a small folder in the color, shape, and size that Newton Geiszler, frequent former biological consultant to the US military, hadn't seen in a while. He opened it.

After a few seconds of thumbing through it, he paused. At first sight, he had thought it was something involving smaller Jaegers, but then he began to read. “What is this?” He looked over to Agent Fowler. Then it struck him – despite their being almost a mile out of the airport, Fowler hadn't been touching the steering wheel. Newt had heard of self-driving cars, but he was surprised to know that he was in one.

“I selected you for three reasons, Dr. Geiszler. Your unorthodox approach to the nature of enemy species had spoiled your reputation among most military men, but it may be perfect for our goals. Your prowess in determining the biological structures of alien species is fantastic, and may prove useful in discovering a solution to yet another problem. And most importantly, I think you will have a strong motivation for completing the projects we have for you.”

“What mission? What are you talking about?” Newton looked through the folder until something yellow and familiar caught his eye. It was the car he was in…

“I want you to help us save an alien species.”


	2. In Which Newton Rides Bumblebee

Once again, but for a different reason, Newton slipped out of his talkative habits. He reviewed the documents again. He remembered the more notorious attacks listed in the folder, which had been chalked up to insurgency, gas line explosions, bombings, or whatever fit the bill for the area of the world. Not being of biological interest, he ignored it. Newton spent a whole summer researching stomatopods, crustaceans which could strike with a claw they accelerated at a rate over ten thousand times the acceleration of Earth’s gravity. It was hard to pay attention to news about accidents in who-freaking-cares, Nevada or some battles in Egypt when he was busy researching badass animal kingdom superheroes. (He had named one extremophile bacteria genus Ferrostark. So far, no one had noticed.)

This was new, and fascinating, but not... Interesting. The alien life forms behind the attacks, Cybertronians (Transformers in Uncle Sam’s goonspeak), had some internal cultural or ideological conflict, and the struggle between the warring factions had affected Earth. Cool, great, this all sounded totally unfamiliar oh wait a minute.

Throwing aside the similarity and accompanying unease, Newt couldn’t see why this should interest him. For one, these were intelligent life forms. There was no mystery to their culture or social structure as long as they could just tell you about it, and a lot of the mechanisms behind their biological processes were more mechanical than Newton cared to know about. This wasn’t biology, and from an anthropological perspective (if this could even be called anthropology) not much could be said about a history with so few sources of such narrow reliability.

This just didn’t seem relevant. He had done research with ornithologists on quantum entanglement in the brains of migrating birds. The birds were able to tell, without the assistance of sunlight or other telling features, which way north and south were. Moreover, these same birds were disoriented over the magnetic poles of Earth! They were able to use quantum entanglement to create a biological compass, for longer periods of time than were achieved by researchers funded by BILLIONS of dollars. That was amazing. The astounding ingenuity of mother nature was what drove Newt.

The Autobots, however... They were machines. They might be sophisticated, friendly, and culturally very interesting, but his interest in mechanics and anthropology (which, yeah, probably needed a new name if applied to Autobots) were only explored insofar as they were relevant to his true love: biology. These robots weren’t lifeforms in disguise, from what he could see.

This thought process took him around ten seconds to resolve. “You know, Agent Fowler-”

“Bill, please.”

The significance of this didn’t strike Newton. “Bill, I appreciate that you considered my personality. The last time I worked with any g-men, I was...” The memory soured his expression, a rare occurrence for the upbeat biologist. “Well I haven’t worked with them any more, and I probably wouldn’t want to. You’ve been very considerate. But I don’t see why you need the help of a biologist here! I deal strictly with biological processes, and regardless of what my research would have you believe, any straying I do from that path is purely to categorize and understand a living creature. I don’t think these Autobots are in my field, because I fail to see how metal can be alive!”

The radio blared momentarily, and Newton suddenly remembered that the yellow Camaro he saw in the folder looked awfully like the one he was sitting in - the one that was driving itself. It dawned on him that he was actually inside an Autobot. He hastily added, “With all due respect, that is. I mean I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, human or robot or... otherwise. But it’s very difficult for me to imagine how anything I’ve done as a biologist is relevant to a physical problem these robots have!”

“Autobots, and it’s not what you’ve done, it’s how you’ve done it. You have dabbled in marine biology, paleontology, ornithology, botany,-”

“Plant biology is the technical term, technically, and my Ph.D was in marine biology, so I can’t say I’ve dabbled, and I didn’t really do any actual paleontology, I just used existing data to extrapolate the mechanisms behind movement for a lot of colossal dinosaurs which achieved quadrupedal movement on land, as well as certain biological mechanisms in a handful of obscure Jurassic-era dinosaurs. It’s fascinating to consider how they handled the isolation of radioactive elements which were more present due to geological factors back then which would have crippled the metabolism of modern-day...”

The radio blared again, and Newton looked at the confused face of Bill Fowler. The deer-in-the-headlights look reminded him much of his mother, his first girlfriend, his second girlfriend, his fourth girlfriend, and two of his three boyfriends. They all looked so defeated when he started talking about his work like this. “Well, okay, yes, I admit that I have a diverse portfolio. How does that help?”

Fowler’s face looked like his brain had restarted. “You work in different fields and pick up on concepts or ideas that are completely new, even when they’re not in your field of study. I am hoping you will be able to apply that to the problem at hand.”

“What problem is that?”

“Well, the best man to explain it would be my friend.” Fowler put his hand on the dashboard. “Bee, could you call Optimus?”

A series of buzzes and beeps came from the car speakers. They sounded happy, or obliging, to Newton - like the playful meows of a kitten, they hit frequencies that communicated an emotion without using words. Interesting. Suddenly, there was a reply. “Agent Fowler, how have your plans proceeded?” Newton’s jaw dropped. Sweet Kaiju Christ, he thought, that voice! Newton’s favorite relationship by far had been the one with his third boyfriend, Peter, whose voice was to the ear what whiskey was to the mouth. Optimus Prime’s voice was like the moving of mountains underground: deep, grand, and powerful. It was like Peter’s voice distilled into its greatest components.

“I’ve picked up the Doctor from the airport. I’m not certain he wants to stay long, because he didn’t bring any luggage.”

“Well actually, I did bring luggage, but the guys didn’t tag it properly and I told them it looked like it would fall off and they said it would be fine, that they left it on like that all the time, but they didn’t also say that they always lose luggage! I had some nice shoes in there, and some of those socks with the sleeves for the toes, and I don’t-”

“I’m sorry to hear about your lost possessions, Dr. Geiszler.” The deep sound of Prime’s voice drove his protestations quiet.

“Just call me Newt,” squeaked the biologist.

“Very well then, Dr. Newt. Thank you for choosing to answer our call. You came highly recommended from Agent Fowler.”

The praise, normally an irksome byproduct of his work, sounded like divine exaltation in that voice... ‘Okay, I need to focus’, Newt thought. “Well, I’m not that great...”

“I trust Agent Fowler’s judgment in bringing you in. He has shown to be a good judge, both of character and of potential.”

“Not that I wish to interrupt,” said the clearly-wishing-to-interrupt Bill Fowler, “but the doctor wants to know why we are brought him here.” Newt nodded, oblivious that the sound-only communication rendered his gesture pointless.

“Dr. Newt, the Cybertronians as a species are very different from what you know, but only in physical make-up. Our propensity for war is, sadly, a great similarity, and I have found a number of close friends and companions among humans that make me wish I could share my long lifespan with them. Emotionally, mentally, and behaviorally, we are more similar than you might imagine.” Optimus’ voice took on a tone born from shame and mourning: “But we need help.”

“The problem we face is not one that we have been able to solve. For millennia we have been uninterested in the mechanics of our own species, and that may prove to be our downfall. As a race, we are not curious towards our nature, and this leaves us unable to direct our efforts towards any solution. I am turning to human ingenuity for help.” Optimus sighed. “Recently, we have been unable to reproduce.”

Newton took a moment to process this. “They mate.” It hit him again. “They can MATE?!” His outburst was met with a look from Fowler. “How does that even work?!” It didn’t take long for him to realize how stupid and insensitive that comment about Transformers was - he had said it to a Transformer. And while inside a Transformer. Through that Transformer’s radio. He waited what felt like an eternity for someone else to break the silence, cheeks flushing with embarassment.

It didn’t take long. “...I assure you, Dr. Newt, that this is a serious problem. Cybertronians all come with tools for reproduction which allows them to interact, for lack of a more appropriate word in your dialect. From this interaction, a Spark is created, from which a new Transformer may grow.”

Optimus sighed, and the Camaro speakers buzzed with his sadness. “On my homeworld of Cybertron, Bots have been unable to reproduce, and older Bots’ Sparks are spontaneously starting to fall quiet. It has been called the Falling Darkness by my people. Without help, all Transformers are doomed. It affects all of us, including the Decepticons.”

“The what?” Newton had skimmed the part of the dossier dedicated to threat assessment.

Fowler interrupted: “Never mind that, Dr. Geiszler. The life forms are alien, but they face a problem which threatens their extinction. I thought this project would interest you, and I believe you are capable of working towards a solution. Can you help?”

Newton thought about this. His opinion regarding extraterrestrial life was unpopular, and few things interested him any more. The folder on his lap hinted at a fantastic story. Newton had long thought that there was obviously apparent genetic engineering for the Kaiju which could have been very important for human life - the applications in therapeutic epigenetics alone... If the Kaiju weren’t enemies, they could have been mankind’s greatest benefactors.

But even though he’d never get the chance to learn any more from the Kaiju, he faced an opportunity he’d only dreamed of before… And this was his second such opportunity! Working with a cooperative alien species, something completely unlike anything on Earth... After missing the opportunity with the Kaiju, he wouldn’t forgive himself if he passed up a legitimate shot at understanding more about life in the universe. And the part of his brain that was responsible for a few bad tattoos he had reminded him that he would be watching them have sex.

“I’ll do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who has two thumbs and forgot about this project for a few months? o' (O_O) 'o This guy
> 
> In all seriousness, this chapter was written well over a year ago but I got really procrastinate-y on actually polishing it for minor errors.

**Author's Note:**

> * - This actually happens. The US Navy has several dozen rescue dolphins.


End file.
